You Dig?
by Sharon'Greene
Summary: This is just me trying really hard to write a MarySue that doesn't make me angry when I read it. SodaXOC Please let me know if you think I suceeded!
1. Chapter 1

Ponyboy

Kitty is really a very nice girl. She just doesn't have the best of luck. I was thinking this as I watched her stumble across the cafeteria. She looked awfully confused. It was her first day here. I think she transferred from some other town all together. She's really pretty, with her golden hair that's down to the middle of her back and big blue eyes. She's kinda cute too, little slip of a thing. If you saw her from behind you'd think she's thirteen, if you saw her from the side you'd think she was eighteen, if you get my point. If you see her from the front you don't know. She could be either with those curves and that height, but she's not. She's sixteen, that's all. It was actually quite rare that I should even be in the cafeteria, usually I hang out at a gas station for lunch, but everyone had stuff to do.

So far that day I'd seen her get lost, rip her skirt, get hassled by some Socs, locked in an empty classroom, and have her hair tied in knots by one of our broads. By ours I mean a Greaser girl, a girl who swears too much, wears too much make-up, and dresses like...well, I think you get my point. They seem to have found a new favorite target now that Kitty's here. I don't think you can classify her as a Soc. The guys don't seem to like anything but her body, the girls give her dirty looks. She's sort of middle class I'd say. She doesn't dress like one of our girls, but she isn't decked out in madras duds. She's really smart, I know that. I sit next to her in English. She reads more than I do.

She was really nice to me, which says a lot about what she knows of social standards here. I like her; she's funny, yet thoughtful at the same time. Her vocabulary makes her an easy target for intelligence spotting. This could be bad or good for her. Also she's into art, she's really good. I got to see some of her work, because as luck would have it, we're in the same art class as well.

She walked right up to me as soon as she saw me. "Oh, Ponyboy, where do I sit?" she asked, exasperated, while looking down at the tear in her skirt (which had just been aggravated by a grabby Soc).

I was shocked a girl who looked like her was talking to me so openly. "You can sit here if you want."

"Thank you so much." She dropped down beside me. "I have had the worst day. Can you believe that that guy over there just grabbed me like that?" I could. I'd heard other guys talk about doing far more than that to some other girls. "Can I ask you something?" I nodded. "That boy in English called you a Greaser, what exactly does he mean by that?"

I let out a big sigh. I knew this had to come up. "Okay Kitty. What he means by that is I'm from the East Side. It's like a social station, that guy who grabbed you is a Soc. When a Soc calls someone a Greaser it's an insult. Greasers can call each other Greaser, but no one else. A soc is from the West Side; we're from the East."

"So I'm one of you?"

Now that's surprising. "Where do you live?"

"About five blocks away from the movie theater."

"You're kidding." She had to be kidding. She didn't live by us, that just wasn't fitting. I mean, look at her.

"No, moved in two days ago. Rough neighborhood."

"You live on the same block as my brothers and me."

"I live by you? I'm glad, I was afraid I wouldn't find any friends near me. I'm not used to being in a city." She looked this. "What are your brothers like?"

"Well there are two of them; Sodapop and Darry. They're both older than I am, but Soda's younger than Darry. Soda is really fun, and Darry's more serious. Darry acts older than twenty-one and Soda acts younger than seventeen. Soda's nice to everyone, while Darry doesn't really seem all that attached." She looked like she was thinking about what I was saying. "You can meet them some time, and the rest of the gang too." I was obviously wrong about my middle class theory; her being one of us changed everything. I hoped I didn't sound like I was trying to pick her up...I wasn't. I just didn't think she'd last long in our neighborhood without some help, but I lack common sense, so I shouldn't offer advice.

"That's so sweet of you to be nice to me. I think I'll take you up on that." She looked at the Soc table. "They aren't dangerous, are they?" I'm thought about Johnny, and clenched my fists.

"Kitty, stay away from them is all I can say." I looked at her again. She didn't fit the description of a Greaser at all. She wasn't wearing make-up, her skirt (though torn) reached her knees, and she neither swore nor acted tough. I wondered if this would change. I hoped not, it was kind of cool to see a genuinely nice girl from our side of the fence.

We walked home from school together. Probably a good idea with Socs out in their expensive and tuff cars. She had gone down to the office for some safety pins to hold the side of her skirt together. She told me that she makes her own clothes, so she could fix it once her machine is unpacked. I invited her to meet the gang, she obliged. Later we could walk her to her place, I feel more secure around my brothers.

Two-bit and Steve were bound to be hanging around, Soda's off work by now and Darry would be soon. We're at my place, and sure enough Soda, Two-bit, and Steve were sitting on the old couch on our porch. I could hear them talking about cars. Soda started watching us. "Hey, Ponyboy!" he called, waving happily. Two-bit jumped off the side of the porch to greet us, or her, more likely.

"Hello, hello, and who might you be, baby?" He'd gotten hold of her hand and was kissing it. She blushed. Soda and Steve ambled over.

"This is Kitty; she lives a couple of houses down. That's Two-bit." Two-bit cocked an eyebrow, in his trademark way.

"So, you're new," he sounded impressed, which was bad. Soda gave him a look that said he wouldn't be playing fair if he tried anything. This was true enough, she knew next to nothing about this place, or the people. Two-bit could rope her in and cut her loose, use her for a night, and forget about her.

"I'm Soda. So how do you like it here, Kitty?" Soda inquired, as he shook her free hand.

"It's very different, the people are interesting. Some of them are scary, others mean, and then there's Ponyboy." Soda's nodding, I think he got what she's saying. He's real understanding, you know. I looked at Steve. He was looking her over suspiciously.

"How long have you been here Katie?"

"Kitty." I corrected; he gave me a cutting look only I can provoke from him.

"Two days." she looked undaunted by his error.

Two-bit, still holding her hand, placed her arm around his neck...this looked quite ridiculous, because Kitty is shorter than me. "Hey kitten if you need a totally cool tomcat to show you around..." Soda was smiling, but still punched him on the arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get him to stop hitting on her. All of the guys knew Two-bit was thinking only about one thing.

Kitty reclaimed her arm. "That's very nice of you Two-bit, but I'm afraid tomcats don't like kittens. I'd rather be warmed up than cooled down, and I don't want to go 'around'." Two-bit blinked, and did the eyebrow thing again.

"Sassy Lassie." Soda was smiling again, while I was wondering yet again, just where Two-bit got his expressions. Kitty gave Two-bit a half smile and a wink, just to say it was all in fun. He flipped a piece of her hair with his fingers.

"I don't believe I know your name yet." she said to Steve, in a polite voice.

"That's Steve." I told her, it didn't look like he felt like talking to her.

Steve

Ponyboy had brought a girl home from school. I wish he'd start liking girls already, maybe then he'd stop hanging around us so much. (Us is me and Soda.) I didn't like this girl at all. She was too clean to be one of us. Too well dressed, no make-up, too smart, and too different looking. I saw the way Soda's acting around her; fast interest. I don't like it at all. Ever since that tramp, Sandy, left he hasn't been the same. This little broad could do the same thing. I'm not letting it happen. Two-bit seems to like her alright. She flirted back, but I don't think she meant anything by it. Ponyboy seems smitten with her, but not in that rare female interest type, and me...well I already said I don't like her. Soda's always carrying on about how I should try to understand people more, give them a chance, you know? I don't though. Soda says it just means I'm attached to what I have now, and don't want it to change. He's probably right.

Darry just pulled up. "Darry, this is Kitty; she lives a few houses down." Soda explained to him.

"Hello Kitty, I'm Darry. I don't want to seem rude but I need to go take a shower."

"He's into construction." I heard Ponyboy tell Kitty, she nodded.

"Not at all, Darry. It's nice to meet you all the same, I hope I can get to know you a little better the next time I see you." she held out her hand.

"I promise you'll be able to then," he shook her hand and walked into the house. Everyone but me seems to like her. This might be harder than I thought.

Sodapop 

I was so bored I could hardly sit still. Darry's at work, Pony's with him, and I don't work on Saturday this week. Two-bit and his mom were out of town for a cousin's wedding. I couldn't seem to find Steve, but I think he said something about being with Evie today. I suppose I could've walked downtown. Or hung out at the gas station. I could've watched TV, or played solitaire. Except, I didn't want to do any of those things. I should've cleaned, but that sounded really awful. I went outside. Just to see if I could find something good to do. It's nice out there, warm, with a cool breeze, and not too humid.

I found the football. I decided to practice kicking in the lot. After a couple of kicks (and fetches) I realized I don't dig playing football by myself. I tried to think of someone I could play with, but, once again, all the guys were gone. I was making a mental list of who lived near us, and the only person remotely close to my age was that girl that Ponyboy introduced me to. Kitty...yeah that's it. I remembered where she lived because we walked her home that day. So I walked down to her house and knocked on the door.

When she came to the door my jaw almost fell off. She was wearing jeans! She jumped when she saw me and ducked behind the door. "Soda...um hi. What can I do for you?"

I collected myself. "I'm just swinging by to see if you wanted to play football or something."

"Um, yeah, I guess. Do you care if I look like this?"

Something logical to say is what I need. "I imagine it would be hard to run in a skirt, so no." She smiled...she has dimples. "Have you ever played before?"

"Yeah, I've been known to play."

Not the answer I expected. She was an odd one. She stepped out of her porch and flipped her long gold colored hair from her shoulder. We walked back to the field and started playing.

She hadn't been lying when she said that she could play. Her passing was almost better than mine. We began a game of one on one, after warming up with catch. I didn't run as fast as I could on the count of her being so much smaller than me, but I did tackle her if she was caught. To my surprise, she could get me down too. It was a lot harder of course, and probably very funny to see, but she could get me on the ground alright.

We finally collapsed in the tall grass. We're both tired from playing for about two hours straight but she looks very happy. She kind of glows when she's happy. I generally don't like to be still for too long, but then she started talking to me. It's really strange how she talks to me. It's like she thinks I'm just as smart as her, and actually have opinions worth discussing.

She told me this story about rulers in Russia. They were a family that was chased out of the capital and murdered. It was true she had said, but I didn't think it could have been. If it was true then it was history, which I don't like. I wasn't very good in school, unlike Ponyboy, and I dropped out. I had a lot of questions after she promised it was true, and I could ask Pony to be sure. If you ruled a country, how could someone just run you out? She explained that it wasn't just a few people, but an organized group of Communists. Then I wanted to know what a communist was. She told me that they were people who thought everyone should get the same as everyone else. I thought this sounded like a good plan but, I guess there's no way for someone to get ahead in life, as she pointed out.

I had never had anyone listen to what I was saying before, it was real nice. After I understood what she was saying we started trying to think of ideas for our own government. It was weird that I didn't once feel like jumping up and doing something else. It was new to me. We talked until it started to get dark, then she had to leave. I watched her get up and brush herself off.

"Goodbye Sodapop." I waved, then started walking back to our house.

Darry

My back was killing me. Soda is always giving me guff about not trying to carry too many shingle stacks at once. What with all the pain I'm in, I'm half ready to give in and listen. I just told Pony to do his social studies homework. He doesn't know, but I'm awful proud of him for getting his grades back up. He wants to run track this year, and is already training in his spare time. I sure hope he can do better for himself than the rest of us.

Soda was cooking tonight, which means something very strange is on the menu. Soda is one of a kind, he's always trying something new. I just hope we don't have green pancakes again. I put on my reading glasses, which make me look oh so tuff, and browsed over the newspaper. The crimes committed over the weekend were displayed and I was amused to read that Tim Shepard had egged an entire half of a car dealership, before some old lady walking her dog spotted him. I bet he's all sorts of angry. What kind of old lady is about at midnight? Half-way through the sports section Soda called for me and the kid to come to dinner. It was just ordinary lasagna, I saw to my relief and started digging in.


	2. Chapter 2

Darry

I sat down at the table and took in the scent of the lasagna Soda had fixed; it smelled pretty good. I picked up my fork and scooped a steaming bite into my mouth, where it stayed for about two seconds. I spat the "lasagna" right into Soda's face.

"I guess this means you don't dig my new sauce," Soda mumbled as he wiped most of the melted cheese into his lap.

"Glory, Soda, what's in this?"

"I just thought it might be savvy to add this vinegar and brown sugar mix I came up with the other day to the tomato sauce." He was now pulling cheese out of his hair. Ponyboy sat down.

"Geez Soda! Miss your mouth much?"

"I know of a certain mouth I don't miss," Soda groaned under his breath. He proceeded to chuck a lasagna noodle at Ponyboy. The next thing I knew I had a slippery, vinegar soaked noodle slipping down my nose. One can only assume Pony ducked.

"That's it, little Buddy!" I put Soda into a headlock and he started thrashing.

"I'm never making dinner again!" He called gleefully, as he tried to free himself from my mighty grip. Pony lunged at my back and started tickling me. I dropped Soda, and reached around my back to get at Pony. "Superman hates my cooking!" Soda wailed, as he picked up a handful of it. I knew he was probably coming for my hair, so I waited for him to lunge then I swung Ponyboy in front of me. He got it right in the mouth. I felt his chest heave and Soda was stuck with yet another face-full of half chewed lasagna.

"Glory! What's in this?" Pony called, as Soda ran into the bathroom, shrieking in a falsely wounded voice how no one liked his cooking.

Ponyboy

I wasn't really listening to the teacher, even though English was my favorite class of the day. I was thinking about the double feature on Saturday. They were playing the latest Bond movie…Goldfinger, and some movie I hadn't heard of about a "strange glove" doctor, or something. Bond is a pretty cool old guy. He is very tuff with his gun and smooth with the girls.

I leaned my head on my desk and drifted off, thinking about tuxedoes and wondering if they were as easy to move in as 007 made them seem. Someone tapped me on the back. It was Kitty. "Do you want to do this paper together?"

I sat up and hoped I didn't look as close to sleep as I had been. "What paper?" She smiled and gestured to a hand-out that had magically appeared on my desk somewhere between a boat chase and kissing Shirley Eaton. I took it into my hands and scanned it. It was quoting some writer talking about how a collaboration is the most challenging writing he's had to do. Then some description about how we were to partner up and write a paper together. Despite there not being a theme listed, I thought the teacher did a good job filling the entire page with how challenging it would be to come up with a topic we would both be committed enough to to write about. "Okay, what do you want to write about?"

She shrugged at muttered about hating open-subject papers. I nodded my agreement and opened the one notebook I had. "We should make a list of things we dig." I felt very cool for thinking of this idea.

"That's a good idea." See?

"Okay. Cars."

"Painting."

"Drawing."

"Politics." I gave her the eye for that one, she stuck her tongue out.

"Elvis."

"Lemons."

"Spaghetti."

She paused and seemed to think for a second. "Soda." I dropped my pencil and looked at her. It took her a second to get it. "I meant Pepsi-Cola." I continued to stare at her.

"My dad used to called Soda that."

"Really? That's cool." She was blushing, and so was I after a few seconds.

"So, um, I like Christmas."

"Yeah, me too. How about football?"

I laughed and she looked at me funny. I cleared my throat and looked away.


	3. Chapter 3

Ponyboy 

After awhile sitting there and blushing…you know, real tuff looking stuff…we ended up pulling out books and not working on our paper. I had the presence of mind to take the list and put it into my notebook. So it ended up at home with me. I was looking it over, with growing desperation—for none of this stuff could make a good paper—When Soda came into the room and flopped onto the bed. I was expecting him to hassle me about going to bed or something, but when it had been about ten minutes without him talking or banging around I had to turn around. I expecting to see him passed out or something, but he was staring at the ceiling….something I'd never seen him do.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Airplanes."

"Why?"

"I'm sure I don't know. But they are interesting. How do they fly?" He turned his head and waited for my answer.

"I don't know, Soda."

"What good is all that book learning if they don't teach you about airplanes? I think airplanes are important."

I couldn't tell you why, but I thought what he said was funny, and started laughing. "If they started teaching a class about airplanes, would you come back to school?"

"Nah, I was just thinking about it lately. Come to bed."

Sodapop 

Another day at the DX and I am in no mood. Steve is trying to chisel apart some melded together tractor engine and I am pretending to be interested in the car I am looking at. "Well, it looks like you were due for an oil change about 3000 miles ago." I looked up at the gentleman in his tie, who was looking very upset at this news.

"How am I supposed to know when the thing needs to be serviced?" I tapped the static sticker on the windshield.

"This should have the date you need an oil change stated on it," I wiped my forehead with my rag and explained to him that he would need some more serious work due to the damage of running a car without oil. He left in a very bad mood, and I thought about how "mystery loves company," or some such thing….Upon thinking about it, I decided that isn't how the saying goes. I was still trying to figure it out when the boss set me free for the afternoon.

As I walked home, I kept my hand in my coveralls, fingering the blade I keep there. My hair kept hanging in my eyes, and I was sweating it up. It seemed the more I moved the more angry I got. I started chewing the stick of gum Steve gave me that morning in violent chomps. When I got home I kicked off my boots forcefully, and poured myself a tall glass of chocolate milk. After the third drink I got up and ripped off my coveralls. I was chilling in my shorts and a sweaty t-shirt…trying to pin-point at what time I had gotten so ill-tempered. I took another drink of my chocolate milk, and decided it was just one of those days.

I was still thinking about this, when I heard the door open. I turned a menacing glare at the door. Ponyboy didn't meet it though, he was working on kicking my boots out of the doorway. He moved further into the room and the full unfriendliness of my look was pinned onto the girl who followed him in. Whoops, that would be Kitty.

She looked hurt for a second and then like she might laugh. "Nice shorts."

Ponyboy looked over at me and I thought he might laugh, he opted to look embarrassed instead. I got up, thanked her sarcastically and went into the bedroom. I stayed there for ten minutes after putting on my pants, so that it would appear I had better things to do then chill in the living room, then I went back out. They were sitting on the floor together, pouring over a notebook or something and didn't even notice me. Well I did not just spent ten minutes alone to be ignored. So I went over to the table and moved things around in an agitated sort of way….making lots of noise. All that seemed to provoke was Pony excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

Kitty looked at me after he left and asked if something was wrong.

"No one pays attention to me, that's what's wrong." I set my empty glass down hard to accent my words.

She turned her head to one side and then laughed. "Well, you have my attention now, what do you want?"

"Draw me a picture." I don't know how I think of these things, but she didn't seem to think it was an odd request. She got up and came over to the table.

"What kind of picture?"

"I want an airplane." She sat across from me, grabbed a paper napkin and sketched out a fast looking fighter. When she finished it she slid it across to me. "That's great."

"What do you want an airplane for?" She was fidgeting with her pen, and looking around the room, as though she hadn't noticed she was there until just now.

"They're tuff."

"Yeah, well, that kind, there, kills people." I looked down at it. "Why are you so upset today?" I'm not sure why, but her telling me that the plane in her drawing kills people sort of drained all of my bad mood out of me. I shrugged and said I wasn't in a bad mood anymore. She looked at me, and I looked at her. She reached out and put her index finger on the napkin. She must have slid it with her finger, because it hit me in the chest. She never looked away, and I couldn't either.

She stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed and picked the napkin out of my lap. Ponyboy came back into the room, and she got up to join him on the floor.

I took my napkin back to the bedroom and taped it to the wall. I looked at it for a minute before leaving. I closed my eyes and could hear her telling me they kill people. I opened them and squinted at the picture. I wondered if she had purposefully left the plane un-manned. That kind, there, kills people. I decided she did.


End file.
